


He's Nice, Smells Like Summer Wind

by illbefinealone



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Love You, I don't know what else to tag, M/M, Peterick, crack maybe i dunno this is quite silly, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illbefinealone/pseuds/illbefinealone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That is what Pete Wentz does when he’s in love. He smells things, he remembers things, and he twists things until they suit him. But it’s never been this bad. This is a new low for him.</p><p>Or,</p><p>Patrick catches Pete smelling his laundry and it all takes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Nice, Smells Like Summer Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Started off as a drabble, months ago, based on a prompt from otpprompts.tumblr.com:  
> Imagine Person B of your OTP is caught in the act of smelling Person A’s shirt by A. To appear not like a creep B blames the good smell of the detergent and asks where they can get some.
> 
> I live on the fucking Balkans and know shit about US detergent therefore this is not a commercial for Gain (I cannot vouch).
> 
> I just Googled ‘best smelling US laundry detergents’ and found a forum where grown-ass people basically praise the lord for that stuff and fangirl over Hawaiian Aloha and Apple Mango Tango, so there’s that thought next time you feel down.
> 
> The title is from Cologne by Alexz Johnson, it’s literally the first line. I fucking love that song.

  


They’re just sitting there, it not Pete’s fault, okay? They’re just stacked in a laundry basket and left on the couch of the tour bus; people are supposed to sit there, and it is not the spot to showcase your incredible t-shirt collection.  
  
But it’s not over-the-moon creepy either. It’s not like he went into Patrick’s baggage, opened Patrick’s suitcases and smushed his face into all of Patrick’s underwear, clean or not. He hasn’t reached that level of desperation yet and he sees it as a personal achievement.  
  
Taking a whiff of Patrick’s shirt is completely innocent when compared to what Pete really wants to do to Patrick. Pin him against the wall and make him moan all sorts of bad words is just one of the many ideas Pete has and to be fair, it’s the most vanilla idea at the same time.  
  
He doesn’t feel guilty when he wraps his fingers around the blue shirt that is on top of the pile and brings it to his nose. It smells like Patrick, exactly what Pete smells every time he hugs Patrick or clings onto him without permission. It’s Pete’s favorite smell in the world, but at the same time it’s putting him down because he shouldn’t be so pathetic over the scent of Patrick’s clothes.  
  
He stands there, holding the t-shirt next to his nose and beating himself up because of what he’s feeling. This isn’t what he should be feeling. He shouldn’t be acting like a spoiled teenager. And you don’t feel this sort of thing for your best friend. Or maybe Joe has been his best friend this whole time and he just didn’t see it. Technicality is a way out, right?  
  
He gets so carried away in making himself miserable that he doesn’t notice the door of the bus opening or closing. He hears nothing; he’s just so lost in his mind.  
  
“What are you doing to my clothes?” Patrick’s voice jerks him away from his self-destructive thoughts.  
  
Pete takes a 180-degree turn around himself, towards where the voice is coming from. He looks at Patrick who has a semi-angry expression on his face and tries to make up an answer that will explain and won’t scare Patrick off even more. He already is terrified.  
  
“Nothing,” Pete says as calmly as he can pull it off. He’s been caught red-handed, this isn’t something he can just get out of without saying anything, “I was just smelling them.”  
  
“Okay, let me ask another question. Why were you ‘just smelling’ my clothes?” Patrick continues the interrogation, hoping that, in some way, this will be completely acceptable in the end.  
  
“Um… The detergent, it smells incredible,” Pete says casually, trying hard not to come off as a liar. And this is the truth, just not all of the truth.  
  
Patrick stares at Pete in surprise: the new expression on his face is familiar to Pete, the face Patrick makes every time he’s trying to detect a lie. And Pete just keeps smelling the shirt, obsessively sniffing like a dog near a piece of meat.  
  
“Pete?”  
  
“Where do you get it? Is it like a well-known brand?” Pete continues the charade, pulling his best acting moves, “What detergent is it?”  
  
“It’s Gain,” Patrick says, doubting that Pete will know.  
  
“What is gain?” Pete responds with a question, proving Patrick’s suspicions right. Pete isn’t even concentrated on pulling off this lie. There has to be something going on.  
  
“The detergent. And the softener. And the dryer sheets,” Patrick explains before he adds, “It’s what my mom uses.”  
  
“Is it like a specific scent?” Pete carries it on, thinking of follow-ups so quickly he’s surprising himself, still breathing in the fragrance as Patrick stares, now with his arms crossed on his chest.  
  
“I don’t know; I buy the first type I see,” Patrick shrugs, looking away for a moment.  
  
“Can you check for me?” Pete asks again.  
  
“Why does it matter?”  
  
“I was just making conversation Patrick, Jeez!” Pete now pretending he’s offended, starts walking away from the basket with clothes.  
  
This is natural. Patrick pissing Pete off by not doing anything extravagant is completely common in the world they live in. Patrick shouldn’t be suspicious of anything.  
  
“Pete, can I get my shirt back?” Patrick asks, a small smirk showing up on his lips.  
  
Fuck! Loophole in the plan! Disc overload!  
  
“Yeah, sorry,” Pete walks a step back and thrusts the shirt into Patrick’s hands.  
  
Well that was so not awkward at all, you moron, Pete thinks to himself as he marches out of the tour bus and heads towards the gas station store. He needs sugar, that’s what his desperation is craving today, maybe some chocolate on top of that.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They’re a week into the tour. It’s far too early to already be pissing people off.  
  
But he’s in love, okay. That is what Pete Wentz does when he’s in love. He smells things, he remembers things, and he twists things until they suit him. But it’s never been this bad. This is a new low for him.  
  
He isn’t feeling as up and about, as a person who’s in love should. He is feeling pathetic, and sad, and lonely, and like a looser, to be honest. No normal person does what he did.  
  
He had to tell someone. And who else than Joe and Andy: he cannot come clean about such a stupidity to anyone else. But he knows it’s going to backfire, it always does.  
  
They’re sitting in the diner at the second stop of the day and Patrick is about to walk in any second now. And he cannot get these to quasi-friends to stop mocking him for what he did. Okay, okay, he deserves all he can get. He hasn’t been a good boy today.  
  
“Let me get this straight,” Andy repeats, for the third time, “You just stood there and sniffed his shirt, in front of him, for about five minutes.”  
  
“Yes,” Pete confirms, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he can’t deal with going through the story again.  
  
“And you pretended it was about the detergent?” Joe asks another question and then makes a face at Pete.  
  
“How many times are we going to go trough this?” he asks back.  
  
“We will be going through this for the rest of your sad, sad, Patrick-less life,” Joe says, laughing like an idiot.  
  
“It’s not that bad, you can fix this,” Andy tries to make Pete feel better.  
  
He considers it for a moment, he can fix this by coming clean, but that is too far out of the question considering there isn’t enough detergent in the world to clean his shit up. So he needs clarification on the subject, he thinks, and he’s going to ask for it.  
  
“How can I fix this?”  
  
“I don’t know, this is pretty bad,” Andy laughs for a short second, “But there has to be something.”  
  
“You two are not helping me at all,” it’s the last thing Pete says before he sees Patrick entering through the diner doors.  
  
“Yo, Patrick!” Joe waves so Patrick can know where they’re seated and Pete feels his stomach turn.  
  
He is going to fuck this up, looks like it. He an already feel his tongue untangling and that is never a good thing.  
  
“So, what looks good?” Patrick asks before he even sits down at the only empty spot available, right next to Pete. Surprise, surprise.  
  
“We haven’t ordered yet,” Andy says, “Just the ice-tea.”  
  
“What have you been doing?” Patrick asks again, getting comfy and slouching back into the chair.  
  
“Talking about laundry detergents,” Joe says giving Pete a smirk and making Pete’s eyes pop wide-open at the same time.  
  
“Has Pete been sniffing you guys too?” Patrick just casually throws it in, reaching for the ice-tea the guys ordered for him.  
  
“Did you check what scent you got? Like I asked you?” Pete tries to cover up what he actually was doing, yet again, changing the subject into something that better suits him.  
  
“No Pete, I didn’t.”  
  
“Why not?” he tries to protest, avoiding the questioning looks from Andy, Joe, and Patrick himself, “I really want to get some of that detergent.”  
  
“Is there a specific reason why you wanna smell like me?”  
  
’Cause I love you. ’Cause sometimes even though you’re close to me, I miss you. Because I want to feel you on me at all times. ’Cause you are the best thing that’s happened to me, but it hurts like shit that I can’t say it to your face. Oh, and I really love you, for a while now. I know I said something in that lines, but I like the sound of this second statement better.  
  
“No,” Pete shrugs as soon as he chases those thoughts out of his head. He transfers his look from Patrick to Andy and Joe on his opposite, questions in their faces, “No,” he repeats, “I really needed that information Patrick.”  
  
“Why?” Patrick insists.  
  
“I’m doing a survey on which detergent brand and scent people on this tour use the most,” Pete says and hurries to shush the laughter escaping from Andy and Joe. This may be the strangest shit he’s ever pulled.  
  
“What do you use?” Patrick fires back.  
  
Patrick has been in enough of these situations to know that only if he asks enough questions will he get to the truth, or he will get out of the situation. That is always the way to go with Pete Wentz.  
  
“I use whatever I can find at the laundry place,” Pete answers without thinking, at all. Patrick knows what he’s doing, and Pete has so easily fallen in his trap.  
  
“Why don’t you find out what you use first?” Patrick asks, finally feeling like he can take a break and enjoy a sip of the ice tea, preparing for whatever comes next.  
  
Arguing with Pete takes up a lot of one’s energy because it never really ends. Pete can go on arguing forever, it’s a gift and a curse at the same time.  
  
“You know I don’t like putting myself first,” Pete says flatly.  
  
Patrick immediately regrets sipping the ice-tea as he almost chokes on it.  
  
“This is getting ridiculous,” Andy comments to Joe and they both second it with a nod.  
  
“Putting yourself first is all you do,” Patrick responds to Pete’s statement, “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and all, but that is the truth.”  
  
“Is that what you really think?” Pete asks, his voice cracking on the word ‘you’ as he tries to camouflage how offended he is. But Patrick doesn’t say anything. He just sips on his ice tea again, as if not a word was said, and this time, he manages to swallow the liquid.  
  
They sit in silence for about a minute, Pete still expecting an answer from Patrick, Patrick determined not to give it as he cooks something else up and Joe and Andy just enjoy the awkwardness caused by the lovers’ dispute.  
  
“What can I get you guys?” the waitress shows up from their right to take their order, finally someone to break the silence. They were so busy mocking or arguing with Pete, no one even bothered to look through the menu.  
  
“What would you recommend?” Patrick asks back, buying some time for the others to see what the place has to offer as he smiles at the waitress who giggles at him, both of them preparing to flirt.  
  
“It depends. Do you want something sweet or something savoury?” she asks back.  
  
“I got something sweet in front of me, I’m gonna go with savoury,” Patrick winks at the girl and Pete’s whole body is taken over by anger as he sees this.  
  
“The Spanish omelet is my favorite,” she says, the smirk on her face and the way her eyes are positioned on Patrick make it obvious to everyone that she thinks it’s highly likely those two will end up in bed. Or against a wall. Or in a bathroom stall.  
  
This is not a good rhyming timing.  
  
Fuck. Pete. Stop.  
  
“I’ll have the Spanish omelet then.” Patrick offers the waitress another smile.  
  
“Me too,” Joe adds to the order, trying to dial the tension down as the girl finally pays some attention to the rest of the guys.  
  
“I’ll have a fruit salad,” Andy raises his head from the menu to add to the order, “No whipped cream.”  
  
“I’ll have a BLT to go,” Pete says to the girl.  
  
“To go?” Joe raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m gonna eat on the bus,” Pete lies as his appetite is suddenly gone.  
  
“We’ll stop,” Andy tries to get Pete back in his chair.  
  
“No, it’s not that. I just, don’t feel like people today.”  
  
Pete gets on his feet and passes by Patrick, knees brushing knees. Pete tries not to think about it as he walks to the counter along with the waitress he so deeply despises, and he waits for his order there, leaving behind a curious crowd.  
  
“You just had to flirt with that waitress, didn’t you,” Andy whispers to Patrick.  
  
And that is all it takes to prove Patrick’s suspicions true.  
  
  
*  
  
  
So he is grumpy today, what else is new. At least he is on stage and he’s doing what he loves. He also loves Patrick, and he’d rather be doing him, but that’s a completely different thing.  
  
He’s been avoiding Patrick whole day long, he’s been avoiding everyone to be exact.  
  
Pete took the sandwich to the bus, left it in the fridge and went into his bunk; he did not take a single bite as he kept nagging himself for what he did.  
  
He decided to be late for soundcheck so he wouldn’t need to spend time with anyone. But he couldn’t be late to the show, so he faced the guys for fifteen minutes, pretended he has a headache, and went off on stage to do the show without saying ‘much beforehand.  
  
But not before Patrick stopped him to tell him that they needed to talk.  
  
Pete doesn’t like talking when he’s the one that needs to do all of the talking. Pete isn’t good at talking. That’s why he writes.  
  
  
*  
  
  
It was a great crowd. They shouted the lyrics along with Patrick’s flawless vocals and it gave Pete a rush of adrenaline, followed by jitters every time he looked at Patrick. Something needed to be done about this. But not in the near future.  
  
So he rushed off stage after the set was done. He’s now rushing towards the bus, towards his bunk because he has nothing to say.  
  
Okay, he has a lot to say, he just can’t. Whatever he says is going to ruin it. He can’t just declare love right now, drive Patrick away and be the reason for something beautiful to end. He can’t… he shouldn’t want to.  
  
“You should’ve just said something, you know. And not act like a freak,” Pete hears Patrick’s voice come from behind him and he turns to see Patrick catching up to him with a slight jog. He hasn’t been walking fast enough he concludes, and he tries to pick up his pace, except it is too late.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Pete asks. Patrick can’t know, he just can’t know.  
  
“You know why I flirted with that waitress?”  
  
“Because you need to get off. We all do. I just thought it would be spending the night alone in a single bed hotel room, tossing yourself, and becoming a new man by morning.”  
  
“Really Pete? I flirted because I suspected something and then you and your obvious jealousy made all of my doubts disappear.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pete once again tries using the lamest off all the lies in the book.  
  
“You don’t?”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“How about I refresh your memory?” Patrick makes it a challenge.  
  
“Patrick.”  
  
“Literally sticking your nose in my clothes, spending your days either ignoring me or following my every step, basically grinding on me on stage last week, thank you for the boner, by the way…” he starts listing everything that he’s noticed. Patrick knows what to look for, Patrick knew all along, but for him to be sure, he needed that one last drop that made the situation overflow.  
  
“Patrick.”  
  
“Staring at me for long periods of time, sometimes even hours, getting jealous whenever I have a conversation with anyone beside you, let alone flirt with someone, saying my name in your sleep, whenever you manage to fall asleep…” Patrick continues.  
  
“Fine, I get your point.”  
  
“I don’t think you do,” Patrick says.  
  
“Okay. I love you, Patrick. Now, what?” Pete pronounces the words loudly, evident anger in his voice. He feels helpless at this point, no one is a fan of feeling helpless.  
  
“Just, fucking kiss me, Pete,” it’s an order, an order Pete so desperately wants to obey.  
  
And he does. Patrick stands still until Pete puts his hands on him, one on his hip, the other one on his cheek. He lets Pete take his time, staring into his eyes, savoring the moment and the feeling in his stomach, before he leans in and brushes his lips on Patrick’s.  
  
But then Patrick takes the lead and the kiss deepens, soon they’re full on making out, hands sliding all over, exploring everything they haven’t had the chance to experience before this moment.  
  
They’re in such luck that it’s a hotel night.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Pete wakes alone. He is incredibly pissed off when he wakes up alone, to an empty bed and a cold spot next to him. Patrick is the last person he expected would do such a thing.  
  
Pete was supposed to wake up with his hands around Patrick’s waist; he was supposed to wake up feeling happy and sexually satisfied, not empty and fucked out.  
  
But then he finds a note on the nightstand, one that makes it better. Patrick’s penmanship.  
  
I woke up way too early and decided to do some laundry. And the scent is called Sunshine and Sunflower. Enjoy whatever’s left in the bottle. Love you.  
  
P.S. I’m waiting for you to wake up for breakfast, but if you don’t get your perky ass down before eleven, I’m coming after you with ice-water. Consider yourself warned.  
  
Pete smiles and he cannot wait to shove this in Joe’s face.  
  
Sad Patrick-less life. Never!

  


**Author's Note:**

> Finally got something finished, I’m working on getting my writing mojo back and I have like ten fics started, but if you have any ideas, please prompt me on tumblr and make my block go away: illbefinealone.tumblr.com
> 
> Your comments and kudos are welcomed and then cherished. Thanks for reading loves.


End file.
